Clockwork Clara

Clockwork Clara

Clara smelled a whiff of smoke as she bumped open the door with her hip, tea tray in hand. “Daddy?” She peered through the hazy workshop just as her father yelped, and something whizzed by her head. The tea tray slipped from her hands as she jerked back in surprise, the cups shattering on the floor. Tea splashed over her boots as smoke rolled from her father’s latest project. 

He coughed and shoved his chair back, waving the smoke away. Clara pulled up her skirts and rushed over, readying her hat to bash at any flames. 

“I’m fine,” he coughed as the smoke dissipated. At the lack of flames, Clara fixed the hat back on her head, sliding the pins through the messy bun it hid. 

“You’ve got to be more careful,” she said, kissing his head and turning her attention to the workbench. “What are you working on?”

A grin revealed white teeth shining against his singed beard and blackened face. He tapped a finger against the melted inner gears of a pocket watch. 

“This one is special, my dear. You are at that age where boys are going to come a knockin,’ but you’ll be ready for them.”

Clara waved her hand to dispel the rest of the smoke and peered at the watch. Her father, Victor, had pried the face off, and deep inside, something more than just gears was at work. 

“What does it do?”

“All in good time, sweetheart. You still have the hidden pocket in that dress?”

Clara nodded. 

“Good! Now take it and run down to Elli’s for me. Tell her you need number two gears for a Stonefeller brand watch.”

Clara tapped her fingers nervously on the workbench. “But if I show her, won’t she see the, ah, modifications?”

“I doubt it. I used to take my stuff to her for years before the accident with those pirates.” He gestured to his half a leg. “She never said a word. If it makes you feel better, only show her if she asks.”

“I trust you, Daddy.” Clara swept the watch from the workbench, snapped it shut, and slid it into the hidden pocket within her skirts. “Don’t do any more experiments until I get back.”

“No promises.” He smiled as she strode to the door, picking up the tray and broken teacups on the way. Pulling on a jacket, Clara slid out of the shop and into the bright morning light. It glinted off the wall of mist covering the infinite cliff face. Above and below, eaves of rock jutted from the cliff, each with their own city, town, or farming community, but this one, the Eave of Ash, was her home. 

The ever present breeze pushed airships from one to the other, the giant balloons carrying people to each eave in a cabin connected below. Clara had never traveled in one before, but she desperately wanted to. 

Sighing with longing, she tore her eyes from a rather pretty ship, a beautiful bird painted on its balloon, and made her way down the street toward Elli’s Gears. Despite the early hour, people filled the streets. She dodged two young boys carrying pails on a stick over their shoulders. Mist collectors. They’d sit the buckets beneath the falling mists until they filled with water, then switch them out for empty buckets. The Collectors would bring the water to the community well in the square. Beside it was a spigot anyone could use. 

Clara smiled, remembering her days as a Mist Collector, and nearly collided with a boy about her age as he ran past. 

“Sorry!” he yelled over his shoulder without stopping, his bag nearly taking out one of the Collectors. Clara shook her head as she ducked around a group of women and into Elli’s Gears, the sign swinging wildly in the wind. The interior was dark, and more than a little musty. Rows upon rows of different gears in boxes sat on display. She had to turn sideways to fit between the waist high shelves. 

Elli sat on a stool behind the counter, one knee hiked up to balance a music box as she worked on it. Oil smudges marked her cheeks and forehead, and she wore a pair of oversized goggles pushed back on top of her head. She glanced up as Clara made her way to the counter. 

“Ah, the young Clara! Come with an order from your father?”

Clara nodded. “He needs some number two gears for a Stonefeller.”

Elli placed the music box carefully on the counter, and shoved her wrench into a pocket before walking down the thin aisle between shelves and wall, stopping at a box half filled with tiny gears. Her fingers hovered above the box before she plucked several from inside. 

“Haven’t come across the Stonefeller series in a while,” she said, making her way back to Clara. 

“He likes old things.”

“Do you have the piece with you?”

Sweat broke out under Clara’s hat, but she forced herself to smile. “Of course.”

Elli took the proffered watch, popping it open. 

Please don’t see it, please don’t see it. Clara shuffled nervously, peering at the different gears in the surrounding boxes to hide it. 

“Some clean work, other than these melted gears. How’d that happen?” Elli asked, shutting it and handing it back along with the gears. 

Clara sighed inwardly. “I’m not sure, it was like that when he got it. Thank you, Elli!”

“No problem. Say hello to your father for me.”

She waved, hurried out the door, and stopped. The entire road was in shadow. An acrid smell rode the wind. Smoke. Clara lifted her head to the sky, narrowing her eyes at the airship blocking the sun. A ball of flame shot from its side, falling into the middle of town. 

Fear numbed Clara’s fingers. Her father’s shop was in that direction. She raced down the road, and her way became difficult as crowds of people streamed past her, escaping the roaring fire engulfing the third building down. 

“No!” Clara screamed, pushing and shoving her way toward the shop and the hat emporium next to it. Flames streamed from the windows, all the glass blown out. The crowd thinned and disappeared completely as the air itself burned her exposed skin. 

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, lady! Stop, stop!”

Clara didn’t listen. She pulled up her skirts and ran to the front door, reaching out her hand. It closed around the doorknob. Her skin sizzled and melted, heat pouring through her palm. Clara screamed. Two hands clasped her jacket, tugging her backward, just as all the flames in the window sucked backward in for a mere second, before rushing outwards in an earsplitting explosion. 

The world turned orange, white, and finally, black. 

***

Whispers filled Clara’s ears. She blinked, but the light burned her eyes and she squeezed them shut. The voices seemed to come from every direction. 

“We have to, Arthur. I can’t save it.”

“But, but what if she doesn’t want it?”

A pause. Were they talking about her? Clara wasn’t sure, but their arguing hurt her head. Everything felt fuzzy, like the mist when it flowed out onto their eave and crawled between the shops and houses. 

The whine of some bug overpowered the whispers, growing louder, louder. Dark shapes blocked out the bright light seeping through her eyelids. 

“Go back to sleep, Clara,” a familiar voice said. She couldn’t quite remember who it belonged to as the light dimmed until everything went black. 

***

The bed was warm, but right away Clara could tell it was not her own. Her blanket had been thin and scratchy, but this one was warm and fluffy. A dull ache pulsed up her right arm as if she had just helped haul the Mist Collector’s buckets of water back to town all day. 

A stray hair tickled her nose, and she reached up to scratch it, but it wasn’t her warm fingers that touched her nose, but cold, hard metal. Clara opened her eyes and screamed. Her world shrunk to the end of her wrist. Her hand, her flesh and bone hand, was gone. In its place was metal, gears, and steam rising from the fingertips.

She dropped her hand, throat too raw to scream anymore, as the door to her room burst open. A kid stood in the doorway, his hair sticking in all directions, chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. His eyes scoured the room, looking for intruders. 

“No one’s in here! Why’d you scream?”

“My hand!” Clara cried, her voice cracking. 

The kid sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. “Oh, that’s all.”

“Excuse me? My hand is gone. Gone! Is this not an appropriate reaction?!” Clara sucked in breath, but she couldn’t seem to get enough air. 

“Arthur! You love sick flapdoodle, quit freaking the girl out!” Elli walked up behind him and slapped him over the head with a newspaper. 

“Aww, that's not fair. I was just making sure she’s alright!” Arthur groaned dramatically. 

“If you want to be helpful, go get her a glass of water!”

He grumbled to himself, glancing at Clara once more before walking out, his gait awkward. By the time Elli sat on the edge of her bed, Clara had, mostly, regained her composure. 

“Sorry about him,” the woman smiled. She had grease smeared across her jaw, and her hair in a loose ponytail. The goggles hung around her neck. 

“What’s going on?” Clara asked, refusing to look at her hand. 

The smile dropped from Elli’s face, and she twisted her hands together. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Clara’s blood froze. “What?”

“The pirates, I don’t know how much you remember, but they attacked your block. The shop’s gone, and your dad, he…”

“No,” Clara whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“He didn’t make it out.”

A sob tore from her throat, and she covered her mouth with her good hand, the other hiding beneath the blanket. 

“I’m sorry, Clara.” Elli touched her arm. “If you need to talk, just let me know.”

She could only nod, and Elli got up, and closed the door behind her. 

Her father. Gone. 

Tugging her knees to her chest, Clara buried her head in her arms and wept until the sun sank, and the stars shone bright in the sky. A soft knock came at her door, then. It opened to reveal Arthur with a lamp and a plate. 

“I know you might not be hungry, but just in case.” He set the plate on the bedside table and the lamp next to it. 

“Thank you,” she rasped, wiping her eyes.

Arthur nodded, went to the door, and lingered there, unable to take his eyes from her. Clara scowled at him. 

“What?”

He hesitated. “The pirates who did this, this isn’t the first time they’ve hurt someone close to us.”

“And?” Clara asked when he stopped talking, picking up a piece of cheese from the plate. 

“And…we’regonnagetrevenge.” He said it so fast Clara couldn’t decipher it. 

“You’re what?”

“Gonna get revenge.” He dropped his gaze and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Clara stared at him, rather taken aback. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” He pulled open the door. 

“Wait!” He glanced over his shoulder. “I want in.”

A grin spread across Arthur’s face. 

***

“You shouldn’t have told her,” Elli muttered around the long thin pick she held between her teeth.  

“Yes, he should have,” Clara snapped. “Ouch!”

“Quit wiggling.” Elli wiped away the spot of blood on Clara’s wrist, took the pick from her mouth, and used it to twist the gears in Clara’s new hand. A metal panel had flipped open when Elli poked her pick into a tiny hole. Now she stared transfixed as she tried to keep her hand still. 

“I couldn’t let her miss the chance to get revenge for what happened,” Arthur said with a shrug as he slouched in the chair on the other side of the kitchen table.

“She should practice with her new hand, learn how to use it, before jumping into dangerous stuff like this.”

“You can’t stop me,” Clara said. 

“I’m not going to. In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite.” Elli closed the panel and gestured for Clara to flip her hand, popping open another panel in her palm. Coiled in the center was a thin rope. 

“What is that?” It looked almost like something her father would make. 

“Victor wasn’t the only one who liked to play.” Elli smiled mischievously as she worked. “It doesn’t look like much, but that rope can hold the weight of two men. Here.” She snapped it closed and beckoned for Clara to follow. 

Out the back door, a thin line of dirt separated Elli’s Gears from the barber shop behind it, just large enough for them to stand side by side. It dumped out onto the street at the far end, and a wooden wall stood behind their backs. 

“Aim your palm and tap your thumb and first finger together.”

Clara lifted her palm until it was pointing at a swinging sign sticking out from the corner of the building. With a tap of her fingertips, the rope launched. The force of it surprised her, and her hand flung back. The rope hit the stone wall with a ting, and landed on the ground. 

“Now, if you hold your middle finger and thumb together, it recoils.”

The rope slid seamlessly back into Clara’s hand. It slithered through a hole that twisted open. Four grooves surrounded it, and she opened her mouth to ask about them, when the end of the rope flipped up and a tiny grappling hook settled in and sealed the hole. 

Clara grinned and tried again. This time, she hit the sign. “Yes!”

Elli clapped and cheered. 

“No wonder Dad sent me to you,” Clara said, breathless after more practice. “You’re just as good as him!”

“I’m not sure if I’m that good. He modded some great stuff back in the day. Here, before I forget.” Elli reached into her pocket and pulled out a wind up key. “Use this when you wake up every morning. Make sure those gears are tight to keep the hand in working order.”

Clara took it and slipped it into the pocket of the pants Elli lent her. 

“Let’s go back in. I have one more thing for you.”

Curious, Clara followed close behind. When they passed the sitting room, Arthur was sitting on the couch, one ankle over the other. He seemed to be twisting his own wind up key. When he saw them, he tugged down the hem of his pants and scuttled over. 

“Where we going?”

Elli rolled her eyes, pushing through a doorway and into her workshop. She walked over to the bench and swiped something into her hands. 

“Here.” She dropped a pocket watch into Clara’s outstretched palms. “It was in your pocket.”

Clara popped open the watch. The hands had started turning, and the soft click of the gears made her smile despite the tears pooling in her eyes. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Elli said, clasping her hands behind her back and clearing her throat. 

Arthur leaned over Clara’s shoulder. “What does it do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, turning it over and rubbing her fingers over the geometric design on the cover. She glanced at Elli. 

She shrugged. “I didn’t check. Messing with other people’s mods isn’t something I do. Don’t try it in the house, though.”

Clara tucked it into her pocket. Knowing her father, it could do any number of things. 

“So,” Arthur said, leaning against the workbench, “can we tell her?”

“Tell me what?” she asked, glancing between her two new friends.

Elli waved a hand in resignation. “Fine.”

Arthur jumped up and down on the balls of his feet. “The plan!” He pulled down a rolled sheet of paper from the shelf above the bench, using tools on each corner to hold it open. Clara stepped up next to him. 

“We’ve been chasing these guys for a while. Look, after noting when they attacked, both here and at different eaves, they seem to have a pattern. If we follow that pattern, they’ll attack here again tomorrow.”

“Already?” Clara wrinkled her nose at him. “Seems a little fast.”

“You’re right, and that’s because—” he stabbed his finger at the top right corner, “—they’re coming back around. We’re the second to last stop, and they hit many of the same places on the way back.”

“Hit us when we’re down.”

“Exactly, but we will be ready. We’ve been preparing for this day for a long time. They’ll come up from the Eave of Gold. Usually, pirates are ready on top of the balloon to jump on the ledge as the airship rises. We have a small window from when they make land to when the cabin passes the ledge. Without being seen, we have to get on that cabin before it rises beyond our reach.”

“What do we do once we reach the cabin?” Clara peered at the plans, but she could make neither heads nor tails of the messy handwriting. 

“The fighters will be on land,” Elli said, sitting on the workbench. “Which means the rest of the crew will be ship mates and less likely to pick a fight. You two need to lure them to one side of the ship while I go for the cockpit. Then you must get off and I’ll steer it en route to the Mist.”

Clara stared at her, twisting the hem of her shirt. “But isn’t there only rock behind it?”

“That’s the point. Crash the ship, they can’t use it again, or escape.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry.” Arthur grinned. “She’s resourceful. She’ll find a way out.”

“As long as you have a plan.” Clara glanced at her, and Elli gave her a reassuring smile. 

“I always have a plan.”

***

Sleep didn’t come easily to Clara. She tossed and turned as grief ate at her insides and some combination of worry and excitement built in her chest. When the first light of dawn lit up her windows, she gave up, got dressed, and left her room in search of breakfast. 

She clutched a piece of burned toast in one hand and the wind up key in the other when Elli walked in, rubbing her eyes and yawning. The goggles were back on her head, holding back a mess of hair. 

“Morning,” she mumbled, heading straight for the coffeemaker. Gears whirled and steam issued out the top as she poured water in. The smell wafted throughout the house, and Clara inhaled deeply, the scent alone energizing her. 

As Elli poured a cup and added a dash of cream, Arthur stumbled into the kitchen, eyes still shut, nose in the air. He reached out a hand, fingers grasping as Elli poured another cup and placed it in his hand. A smile crept across his face as he inhaled the earthy fragrance and took a tentative sip. Only then did his eyes crack open. 

“Beautiful morning, eh Clara?” he said dreamily.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You just opened your eyes. How can you tell?”

“Cause you’re in it.” 

Elli snorted. Arthur blinked, flushing as he realized he had said it out loud, and hid behind his coffee cup. 

A smile curled Clara’s lips. “I appreciate it, Arthur, but my only goal right now is to avenge my father.”The boy chugged the coffee and set the mug in the sink with practiced ease. 

“Then let's put this plan in motion!”

“You gonna wash that first?” Elli looked pointedly at the mug. 

“Aww, come on. You’re ruining my cool.”

“That’s my job,” she said, giving him her own empty mug. Grumbling to himself, Arthur washed the mugs. Clara giggled and followed Elli out to get ready for the big day. As she pulled her hair into a braid that fell down her back, Elli rummaged through the workshop, pulling out seemingly random bits of gear and tossing them onto the workbench. 

“What’s this?” she asked, reaching for a cord hanging on a backpack. 

Elli slapped her hand away. 

“Part of my plan.” Elli pulled a pair of boots from under the bench and set them in front of Clara. “Try these on.”

They were old and worn, the leather rubbing off of the steel toes, but Clara grabbed them in delight, kicking off her slippers and shoving her feet in. “A little big, but if I tie them tight, they’ll be fine.”

“Good. Should work better than what you had. Ever use one of these before?” Elli pulled out a flintlock pistol and twirled it around her finger.

Clara shook her head. “Dad never taught me.”

“No problem. Arthur has one, so keep close to him.” She strapped on a shoulder holster and tucked a gun on either side, pulling on a brown duster over top. Clara wiped her palms on her pants, the seriousness of the situation dawning on her, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, back out now. No way could she walk away knowing there was something she could do to bring down the monsters that had killed her father and hurt so many other people on the eaves. 

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as Arthur is ready. Do you have your father’s watch?”“In my pocket.”

“Good, keep it close, just in case.”

“Aren’t you guys ready yet?” Arthur leaned against the doorframe. He had jammed a top hat on his head, and Clara was certain the gears lining it were moving. 

Elli adjusted the goggles on her head, grabbed the backpack, and nodded. “Clara?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

They filed out the door. Clara’s heart beat like a drum, but she breathed through it, focusing on Arthur’s back as they strolled down the street toward the bakery on the far end of town. It was on the edge of town where they predicted The Sparrow, the name of the pirate’s airship, to rise over the ledge. 

They all ordered muffins. Clara got an especially large one with pieces of chocolate, and they scrutinized their destination. A green field separated them from the Ledge, and a small copse of trees grew to the right. The richest family on the Ash Eave cultivated them, and twice a year they would produce apples and oranges.

While they made their way to the trees, Clara gobbled nearly the whole muffin. At halfway, the mechanical whirring of grinding gears echoed from beneath the ledge. 

“Time to go.” Elli dropped her muffin and ran. Shoving the last mouthful between her lips, Clara followed suit, with Arthur close behind. Her feet slapping against dirt made a rhythmic beat with the blood rushing through her ears. Her chest heaved as the whirring filled the air and they doubled their speed. If they didn’t reach the trees before the balloon came into view, the pirates atop would see them, and the plan would be over before they could execute it. 

Laughter floated up next, louder and louder as the trees seemed always one more step away. But Clara stepped under the branches with Arthur just as the pirates came level with the eave, and ran off the top of the balloon, leaping into the air. They used pick axes to catch the ledge, keeping them from falling into the abyss below. 

Elli, Clara, and Arthur peered through the branches of a bush as the pirates jogged toward town, grinning nasty, broken tooth smiles. Along with the axes, they wore flintlock rifles slung behind their backs. 

When they passed the copse, Elli counted to five and whispered, “Now!” 

They broke cover and ran toward the ship as the magnificent golden sparrow soared farther and farther above the eave. 

“Faster!” Elli urged. A stitch formed in Clara’s side, but she ignored it, telling herself this was more important than a little pain. A clunk behind her turned her head, and Arthur sprinted past them, faster than she had ever seen anyone run. Steam streamed from the bottom of his pants. Without the breath to ask now, Clara vowed to figure it out later. 

Arthur made it to the ledge long before they did, and didn’t slow. Clara gasped as he lept into open air, arms flailing as he dropped out of sight. 

“He’s fine, keep going!” Elli shoved her forward when she stumbled in shock. For her sanity, Clara chose to believe her. 

The airship’s cabin lifted above the eave just before they made it. A deck encircled the cabin itself, with a railing that did not look safe. 

“What now?” Clara yelled over the click clack of the giant gears running alongside the ship. They stretched the whole of the hull, ending in two huge propellers at the stern. 

“Grapple hand!” Elli yelled and shoved Clara over the edge. 

The dizzying drop made her forget everything as the wind blew back her hair. Other eaves jutted from the Mist as far down as she could see. Spirals of corn splayed across one, smoke drifted from chimneys on others, and herds of animals galloped together across several close together. It was beautiful. 

“Clara!” 

Reality returned, and she was no longer floating above a society so cleanly broken into many parts, but falling into a void. She twisted and tapped her thumb and first finger together, aiming her palm at the ship. The grappling hook shot from her palm and dug into the wood of the hull. A sharp yank stopped her freefall, but now she spun under the floating ship as it made its leisurely way over the Ash Eave. 

Elli was above her, the whir of her own grappling hook hauling her up the side. Willing her racing heart to calm, Clara activated the gears in her hand to draw her up. She sent a quick prayer of thanks to her past self for having the foresight to tie her boots extra tight. 

When she made it nearly level with the deck, two hands reached down and hooked beneath her arms, pulling her up and over the railing. 

“You okay?” Arthur leaned over her, concern wrinkling his brow. 

Clara nodded, the adrenaline in her veins making her hands shake. “What next?”

Elli grabbed her elbow and helped her to her feet. “We have about two minutes before the crew comes running out here. You and Arthur distract them while I handle the captain in the cockpit.” She narrowed her eyes at Arthur. “Do not engage unless you have no choice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Arthur saluted her as running boots pulled their attention. 

“Go!” Elli split off from them, running around the other side of the cabin just as four pirates slammed open the cabin door. Smiles sprang upon their ugly faces. Beads hung in beards and mustaches. One wore a flat, wide hat with a feather. The one leading the group was bald, and his head peeled from sunburn. Only he held a flintlock pistol and was doing his best to load it while racing toward them. 

“Hey!” Clara screamed. She pulled the watch from her pocket and threw it at the one with the gun. The watch hit his hand, and he swore and dropped it, the lead ball rolling away. The other three laughed and ran at her. 

“Time to go.” Arthur grabbed her arm and took off in the opposite direction. 

“Come back and play!” called the shortest. 

Clara glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening. “They’re gaining!”

“Hold on,” Arthur said, grabbing her around the waist and kicking his ankle. Clara yelped as they soared into the air and landed on the roof of the cabin, the balloon mere feet above their heads. Arthur released her and kicked the opposite ankle. One set of gears ground to a stop, and another one started up, releasing another puff of steam. 

“You’re like me.” Clara flexed her hand. Arthur pulled up the bottom of his pants to reveal gears turning in his legs. 

“Last year. These pirates stole my family too, and my legs.” His face darkened. Clara reached out to touch his arm, but the airship banked. She stumbled. Arthur threw out an arm to catch her, but he was off balance and they fell off the roof into the band of pirates below.

An elbow dug into her stomach, and she gasped in pain. Pinned beneath her was a body, but it smelled horrible, so she was sure she had landed on a pirate, not Arthur. The hull creaked as it soared out over the Ash Eave. It issued enough steam to darken the sun, and the gears screamed as the propellers struggled to keep up. 

“No!” Arthur grunted, making a racket behind her. 

The pirate beneath Clara wiggled, and she threw a fist, but missed when the ship switched directions, and sent her tumbling off of him and into Arthur’s chest. Something clicked, and the boy shoved her behind his back. 

Peeking over his shoulder, she watched as the pirate with the big hat pointed Arthur’s gun at them. He smiled, his front two teeth missing. 

“Nithe try, kiddieth, thouldn’t have methed with the Thparrow.”

Clara’s eyes danced everywhere, trying to find a way out of the situation. Her grapple hook would take too much time. Arthur was in the wrong position to jump them out of harm's way. Then, sliding across the deck in its tilted state, her father’s watch. 

As the pirates laughed, she reached out her hand, caught it, and flung it just as the gun barked. Clara hooked her arm around Arthur’s chest and pulled him down. The watch and the bullet collided. 

The watch exploded. Gears shot everywhere, slicing Clara’s shoulder. Arthur grunted, and the bald pirate screamed. The deck shuddered as Big Hat fell. She peaked over her arm and saw a wall of mist looming ahead. 

“Arthur, we need to get off the ship!” She scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to Arthur. He waved it away. 

“Go,” he gasped, wincing as he held a hand to his side. It came away bloody. Clara’s blood froze. Her fault. Arthur got hurt because of her. 

“Not without you.” She pulled his arm over her shoulder, stumbling into the railing as the airship jerked again. The deck tipped. Clara started sliding as it reached an unnatural angle. 

“Look out!”

Too late. The dead pirate’s body smashed into Arthur’s and Clara’s feet. They fell, sliding down the deck after the body. The railing splintered under the weight of the dead pirate. A moment before they hit it, someone above them screamed and plunged past. The wood cracked when their feet connected, and they fell into nothingness. 

Clara wrapped her legs around Arthur's waist, stuck out her hand, and tapped her thumb and finger together. The grappling hook slid out of the hole, and flew toward the ship, digging into the bottom. They jerked to a stop, Arthur grabbing her around the waist, wheezing as he stared at the Ash Eave climbing rapidly to meet them. 

Shoulders burning from their combined weight, Clara twirled on the rope, frantically searching for an idea. She couldn’t hold out long. Then she saw it. The lookout tower. It was just below them, and coming up fast. 

“Arthur, drop when I saw drop!” she yelled at him over the buffeting wind.

“What?”

“Drop!” 

He released her, dropping some ten feet to the tower and rolling. But then it flew past and she had no time to drop. She swung wildly at the end of the rope as the ship careened over town and closer to the Mist. 

If she dropped, she’d splat against the ground and die. Keep hold of the ship, and she’d splat against the rock face behind the Mist and die. At least Arthur wouldn’t see her body that way. And Elli, if she made it. 

The first cool tendrils of mist curled against Clara’s face, and she could see nothing but. Someone screamed, but she didn’t care. The last pirate abandoning ship, or maybe Elli. She shut her eyes, heart pounding as she waited for it to be over. 

The sun disappeared. The Mist left droplets of water on her skin and hair. Clara gritted her teeth, ready for impact. 

But the Mist cleared, and sunlight fell against her face. Clara opened her eyes, and a dazzling sight met them. Hundreds, if not thousands, of trees swathed a land that stretched as far as she could see. 

Her mouth hung open, and she forgot the pain in her shoulder for that single moment. Dense, fluffy white patches of mist hung in the sky. In the distance, a tiny stream of smoke wafted into the air. Behind her soared a rock cliff, caves peppering its side. What was once her whole world had been nothing more than a few rocks sticking out the side of a wall. 

“Clara!”

She shook herself out of the daze and tore her eyes away from the vast expanse of green. Elli pulled her goggles over her eyes, dove from the ship, and pulled the cord hanging from the backpack. Two wings burst from the sides, unfolding to nearly twelve feet. 

Clara gaped as her friend flew toward her, releasing the grapple a moment before Elli scooped her up. They sped toward the Mist, and Clara craned her head to get one last look at the new world before it swallowed them and spit them out into the one she recognized. 

“Where’s Arthur?” Elli asked. 

“On top of the watchtower. Hurry, he's hurt!”

Elli nodded, not saying anything as she shifted her shoulders and banked, circling town while descending toward the tower. On top, a small form waved its arms. 

“He’s there!” Clara cried in relief, but Elli had already pulled a cord with her teeth, and they slowed. When they came close, Clara dropped from Elli’s arms and ran to a barely standing Arthur, pulling him into a hug. 

“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” he whined, but when Clara went to pull away, he wouldn’t let her go. “I thought you were dead.”

“Me too,” she said, choking on her voice. 

“Me three.” Elli ran along the tower as she landed, tucking the wings back into the backpack and shoving the goggles onto her head. She glanced at Arthur’s shirt, and the color drained from her face. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, his smile more of a grimace. “It’s shallow, but boy does it hurt.”

“We should get you home.”

“But what about—”

A scream interrupted. Clara ran to the edge and peered over. All four rogue pirates surrounded two girls in the street. Everyone else had fled. 

“We have to help!” she demanded of Elli. 

“Here, take this.” Arthur held out his hat, the gears twisting. “Aim the top of the hat and poke the middle gear.”

Clara snatched it, aimed it over the edge, and jabbed the gear. A huge net shot out of the top. Flipping it over, she frowned, trying to figure out how he stuffed all that in a top hat. 

“Ready?” Elli didn’t wait for an answer, scooping her up and following the net off the tower. It landed on two of the pirates, and they slammed into the other two as they stared in confusion. 

Clara dug her shoulder into the first one’s chest, knocking him off his feet and into the second one. The pirates hit the ground, and Elli glided over them, dropping Clara on her feet. She twisted and kicked the closest pirate in the head. He groaned as she wrestled the rifle from him with ease, pointing it at the other two as they pulled the net off. 

“You friends are gone,” Clara called. “Surrender, or else.”

They laughed, swinging their own rifles into their hands. “Or else what? You can’t even hold the gun.”

Clara smiled and bobbed her head. “Or else her.”

Elli cocked two flintlock pistols, each one shoved into their lower back. “Drop em, fellas.”

The pirates glanced at each other and dropped the guns. The two next to Clara rolled in pain, one holding his head and the other his arm. She lowered her rifle, hands shaking. 

“Go get Arthur, I’ve got these guys,” Elli said. Clara nodded in relief and jogged toward the stairs of the watchtower. 

***

“Once I wrestled the wheel from the captain, I kicked him into the closet and locked the door!”

“Do you think he survived?” Clara asked, wide eyed. They were sitting around the table eating dinner, and now that the shock of what happened wore off, they were deep in conversation about it. 

“Who knows,” Elli shrugged. “If so, he’s stuck over there now.”

“About that, Over There,” Arthur said, waving his fork as he talked. “You said there were trees? Everywhere?”

Clara nodded, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “No eaves, no ledges. Just trees and campfire smoke!”

“Do you think we’ll ever get to meet whoever’s over there?”

Elli held up a finger as she chewed and swallowed. “About that.”

Their eyes followed her as she stood and went into her workshop. 

“What is she doing now?” Arthur mumbled through another bite. 

Elli came back with rope, spikes, pickaxes, and harnesses. “I have an idea.”